"So I burned your throne, brother," he said softly. "And I broke your wife."
The girl at his feet looked up, then quickly looked away. Blood covered her mouth. The sight of her blood stirred Dies Irae's own blood.
"I will hurt you now, girl," he said, grabbed the girl's hair, and pulled her up. "And I will hurt Lacrimosa still. And I will hurt Benedictus, and that boy who flies with them. You all tried to cast me aside, to exile me, to hurt me. Look at you now."
The girl screamed, and he covered her mouth with his good hand. From outside his window, from the village stables, came more screams—the sounds of her husband, and the shrieks of feasting griffins. As the screams rose across the village, and across his empire of Osanna, Dies Irae smiled.
Soon, Benedictus, he thought as he shoved the girl down and tore off her dress. Soon, Lacrimosa. Soon you will scream too.
When he was done with the girl, he pulled her to the window, shoved her outside, and watched her crash to the cobblestones below. She convulsed, kicked, and lay still. Blood spread below her.
She was too skinny, Dies Irae thought.
He turned away from the window and stared into the mirror. He was old, he saw. Lines ran down the sides of his mouth, and gray streaked his golden hair. Wrinkles surrounded his eyes. But he still stood straight and strong, and he could still defeat men half his age in combat. I still have my strength, and my rage, and the light of the Sun God.
He left the room, stepped downstairs, and exited the fort. He walked across the courtyard, where his men were dragging the dead girl away. A cold wind blew, ruffling his robe, and Dies Irae looked up to see crows gliding under gray clouds. Winter is coming, he thought. The weredragons will freeze in the snow and winds, but I will burn with the Sun God's flame.
He walked down the hill, hand on the hilt of his sword. The stones were rough beneath his feet, and the grass and trees moved in the whistling winds. Below in the village, he saw his soldiers move from house to house, plundering food and grabbing peasant girls. When Dies Irae reached the stables, he stepped inside to find ten griffins. Gloriae stood there too, tending to her mount.
"She's hurt... badly," Gloriae said, not turning to look at him. A tin lamp hung over her, its light warm against her golden hair, her soft cheek, and her white tunic. Her griffin lay on her side, bandages covering her leg, side, and neck. She mewled.
"Kill the beast," Dies Irae said, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. "She's useless now."
Gloriae spun toward him, eyes flashing. Golden flecks danced in those green eyes, as ever when fury filled her. "How dare you say this? I've had Aquila since I was a child." She patted the griffin's head. "Hush, princess of the sky. You are strong. You will heal."
Dies Irae looked down at his daughter and her griffin, and couldn't decide what emotion he felt more strongly: disgust at her weakness, or admiration for her passion. The latter won, and Dies Irae sighed.
"Gloriae, I have spoiled you. I should have been harder on you, taught you to see griffins as tools, no more; not living creatures to love. But how could I? I admit it; I too have fond feelings for my griffin Volucris, and would rage should a weredragon wound him." He took her hands in his. "We will heal dear Aquila, and we will kill the weredragons who hurt her."
Gloriae looked at the griffin, chewed her lip, and said, "The blue weredragon hurt her. He'd have killed her and me, but... the silver dragon stopped him. I can't understand it. Kyrie Eleison had me; I was his to kill. The one they call Lacrimosa pulled him back." She shook her head as if to clear it. Her locks of golden hair swayed. "I don't understand, Father. I'm confused. Lacrimosa said something to me in the forest. Something about my mother." She looked back at her griffin, worry clouding her eyes.
Dies Irae winced inwardly. Of course Lacrimosa still recognized Gloriae. Of course she would stop Kyrie from killing her daughter. Gloriae must never know, he told himself, as he'd been telling himself for fifteen years, since that day he took one sister for his own, and left the other for the weredragons.
"Daughter," he said, "have I told you about your mother?"
"Of course. You told me that the weredragons killed her."
He nodded. "When you were three years old. Of course Lacrimosa wanted to pull Kyrie back. She wanted to kill you herself. Lacrimosa, you see, is the weredragon who murdered your mother."
Gloriae's face changed. All worry and doubt left her, and hatred suffused her expression. She whispered through a tight jaw. "I knew it."
Dies Irae stepped toward his griffin, the great Volucris, who stood at the back of the stable. He mounted the beast. "Come, Gloriae. Sit before me on the saddle. We go hunting weredragons."
Within minutes, they were flying over the countryside, a hundred griffins behind them. As the wind streamed through his hair, Dies Irae allowed himself a small, tight smile.
KYRIE ELEISON
They flew through the night. In the darkness they streamed forward, three Vir Requis—one young and blue, fire in his nostrils; one black and burly, scarred and limp; one slender and silvery, her eyes like stars. Cloaked in night and clouds, they flew like the great herds of old.
It feels good to fly, Kyrie thought. They had run for leagues on human feet, until finally shaking off the pursuit in hills of thick pines. The griffins could still return, he knew, and he kept both eyes wide open—but for a moment, he allowed himself to breathe easy.
"Are you sure she'll be there?" Benedictus called over the roaring winds. They flew hidden in cloud. Their scales glistened in the firelight from their mouths and nostrils.
Lacrimosa nodded. "She loved that cave as a child, that summer we hid there. In the snowy Fidelium, she always spoke of returning someday. She'll be there."
Kyrie watched the two Vir Requis fly side by side. He could not help but envy them. They shared a past and memories. They had a family. Kyrie had nobody to reminisce with. His family had perished. His home lay in ruins. Dies Irae had killed Lady Mirum. Kyrie had nobody who also remembered his childhood, remembered his home among the trees, and then his home in Fort Sanctus. He would never have what those two had, and it filled him with both fire and ice.
Dawn was rising, he saw. He could see Benedictus and Lacrimosa more clearly now. He could not yet see the sun, but its pink tendrils touched the clouds where they flew, kindling them. Soon the clouds blazed like dragonfire.
They had flown for hundreds of leagues. They were far now from the Marble City of Confutatis, from Dies Irae's center of power, from his armies and griffin stables... but not beyond the length of his arm. His griffins fly far, Kyrie knew. They fly across this land too, and the distant lands beyond it. Maybe they fly until the end of the world.
"We're close now," Lacrimosa said, the dawn glittering on her scales like sunlight on morning sea. The three dragons pulled their wings closer and descended, tails snaking behind them, until the clouds parted and they saw green land. Grassy hills rolled for leagues, cradling valleys of bindweed and goldenrod, leading to chalk mountains under yellow sunrise. Kyrie scanned the land, but saw only wild sheep, starlings and robins, and a fox running across a hill to disappear into a burrow. No griffins. No Dies Irae or Gloriae. No people at all.
"What is this place?" Kyrie asked.
"It's called Sequestra," Lacrimosa said. "Our kind used to herd here before—"
A roar pierced the land, cutting her off. Lacrimosa narrowed her eyes, Benedictus grunted, and Kyrie stared to the mountains. The roar had come from there. That was no griffin shriek. That was the sound of a dragon. An angry dragon, Kyrie thought.
The three Vir Requis kept flying, gliding lower, until they were near the mountains. Pines grew across the mountainsides, clinging with gangly roots and looking as if a sparrow could topple them. The smell of pines, chalk, and grass filled Kyrie's nostrils, and he savored it. He'd spent a decade by the sea, smelling the salt and waves and fish. He loved the seaside smells, but this place had a new scent, invigorating, healthy, and he imagined the ages
long ago when herds of Vir Requis—thousands of them—filled the skies over Sequestra.
Lacrimosa was leading them toward a cave upon the mountain. Ash covered the mountainside here, the pines were burned, and great claw marks dug into the chalk and earth. A roar sounded again, coming from the cave. It echoed across the mountains and valleys, so loud that birds fled. Smoke and flames flew from the cave, and Kyrie tensed. Would a dragon attack a dragon? Kyrie knew that in the old days, Vir Requis houses would sometimes battle one another, but would Vir Requis fight even now, near extinction? He growled, gearing for a fight should it come.
Kyrie soon reached the cave and flapped his wings, hovering before it. Lacrimosa and Benedictus hovered beside him.
Lacrimosa called out, voice loud and clear across the mountainside. "Agnus Dei! Come and see us."
More fire emerged from the cave, and that roar sounded again, so loud that stones rolled down the mountainside. Then, with a puff of smoke, a red dragon burst out from the cave.
Kyrie couldn't help but retreat a dozen feet. He had never seen a dragon look so fierce, so wild. Agnus Dei looked like a creature woven of flame, her scales burning red. Her fangs and claws glinted, white and sharp. She was a long dragon, lithe but strong, her wings wide and blood red. She howled to the skies and blew more flames.
No wonder the humans think us monsters, Kyrie thought. They must have seen Agnus Dei.
"Hello, my daughter," Lacrimosa said. Her eyes were stern, but compassion and love filled them too. "Your leg. You're hurt."
Kyrie noticed that a long cut, as from a sword, ran along Agnus Dei's leg. The red dragon seemed not to mind. She snorted. "It's nothing, Mother. When will you stop worrying?"
"When you stop getting into fights!" Lacrimosa said.
Agnus Dei rolled her eyes, and smoke rose from her nostrils. She groaned, then seemed to notice Kyrie for the first time. The annoyance left her eyes, and amusement filled them instead. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. She looked like a girl who, in the midst of a heated argument, saw a silly dog and couldn't help but laugh. She studied Kyrie for a moment, then turned to Benedictus.
"Who's the pup?" she asked her father.
Kyrie bristled, and Benedictus snickered.
"The pup's with me," Benedictus said. "Thinks he's a hot shot."
Agnus Dei looked at Kyrie again, the sunlight glinting on her red scales. "Cute pup," she said to Benedictus. "Can he fly?"
Benedictus snorted. "Barely."
Kyrie had heard enough. He felt like roaring and blowing flames. "I can fly better than you any day," he said to Agnus Dei, baring his fangs. He spread his wings wide, trying to appear as large, wild, and intimidating as possible.
Agnus Dei laughed. She gestured with her head to a valley below the mountain. "Race you. First one to grab a deer wins."
"You're o—" Kyrie began when Agnus Dei took off, blazing over his head toward the valley.
Cursing, Kyrie spun around and shot after her. He saw her flying ahead, already distant, her tail swishing. Kyrie narrowed his eyes and flew like an arrow, diving toward the valley, wind whistling around him. His eyes scanned the grass and trees for deer. Agnus Dei was flying five hundred yards ahead, heading to a copse of trees, and Kyrie followed. Deer had to gather there. If he could just—
There! He saw one. A doe was racing across the grass, and Kyrie grinned and dived, snarling. The doe raced, fleeing to the trees. Kyrie swooped. He reached out his claws, and—
With a flash of red, Agnus Dei came swooping. She slammed into him, shoving him aside, and Kyrie howled. She drove him into a hill, and they slid across it, tearing up dirt and grass.
"Let go!" Kyrie cried, struggling to throw her off, but she clung to him, pinning him down.
"That deer was mine," Agnus Dei growled, her maw inches from his face. Her fangs glistened.
Kyrie struggled, freed a leg, and tried to push her off. She wriggled, clutching him with her legs and tail, refusing to release him. They wrestled in the grass, and Kyrie growled. He could not free himself; not without tearing into her flesh with claws and teeth, which he was not prepared to do. Not yet, at least.
"Get off," he grunted. Grass and dirt covered him.
Pinning him down, her knee in his side, she laughed and twisted his front leg. "Pup," she said.
Kyrie growled, smoke rising from his nostrils. "Benedictus warned me about you. He said you're more dragon than woman. He said you forgot what your human form is like. You must be a hideous freak, if you just stay in dragon form."
Agnus Dei laughed again, leaped off him, and shifted. Her wings pulled into her back, her scales vanished, and her claws and fangs retracted. She stood before him in human form.
Kyrie stared. Her hair was curly and black, her eyes brown and mocking, her skin tanned. She was tall and lithe, clad in tattered black leggings and a brown bodice. When he'd met Lacrimosa, Kyrie had thought her the most beautiful woman he'd seen, and he still thought so, but this woman.... If Lacrimosa was beautiful as moonlight, Agnus Dei had a beauty of fire, and that fire boiled Kyrie's blood.
"Stick your tongue back in," Agnus Dei said, her smile just as mocking as her eyes. "You might trip on it."
Kyrie frowned and shifted into human form too. He stood before her, covered in grass and dirt.
"I do not forget," Agnus Dei said. She drew a dagger from her belt and pointed it at him. "I merely do not fear. Others fear their dragon forms. They spend all their time as humans. I have no fear." She growled. "You are a pup." Then she shifted back into a dragon and leaped into the air, kicking up grass. She flew, heading back to the mountainside.
Kyrie too shifted back to dragon. He leaped and flew as fast as he could. He wanted to beat Agnus Dei back to her cave, to show her his speed, but he reached the cave just behind her. She looked at him with those mocking eyes and barked a laugh, and Kyrie felt his cheeks grow hot, and smoke rose from his nostrils.
Agnus Dei, he knew, would be a lot of trouble.
AGNUS DEI
Agnus Dei sat on her haunches, the cave dark around her, and growled at her parents. Smoke rose from her nostrils to sting her eyes.
"Agnus Dei, please," Mother said, soft silver in the darkness. "We've talked about the growling."
Agnus Dei shot flames from her nostrils. The fire glinted on Mother's silver scales, Father's black scales, and the pup's blue ones.
"Agnus Dei!" Mother said, rising to her feet, though the cave was too low for her to stretch to full height. "Will you please stop that?"
Agnus Dei turned to Father. The black dragon sat beside her, watching her with dark eyes.
"Do you see what I've had to put up with?" Agnus Dei asked him. "Do you see, Father?" She mimicked her mother. "Do not growl, do not blow fire, do not act like a dragon. Be a lady, Agnus Dei. Be like me, the noble and beautiful Lacrimosa."
"I never told you to be a lady," Mother interjected, eyes flashing.
"But you want it, don't you?" Agnus Dei said and growled, just to annoy Mother. "You want me to be like you. Delicate and fair, walking around in human form, all pretty." Agnus Dei thrust out her chest and let fire glow in her mouth. "But I'm like Father. I'm like the Great Benedictus, a wild thing."
Still Father said nothing, and that pup Kyrie also only watched from the shadows, eyes burning. He doesn't care for me much, that pup, Agnus Dei thought. Or maybe he cares for me too much, and can't stand it. She gave him a crooked smile, but he only bared his fangs at her.
"Pup," she said to him, and he growled.
"Now don't you start growling too, Kyrie," Lacrimosa said to him. "Don't let my daughter spoil you. I knew your parents, Kyrie Eleison; you are a child of nobility. Noble children do not growl."
Grinning now, Agnus Dei gave the loudest, longest growl of her life, a growl that shook the cave. Kyrie couldn't help but smile, the menace leaving his eyes, and he joined her, growling so that his whole body shook and his scales clanked. Even Father, always so stern and angry, began to growl deeply, eye
s glinting with mischief. Birds fled outside, and Mother covered her ears.
"All right, all right!" Mother said. "I get the point. Benedictus, really. I expect this behavior from the young ones, but not from you. So stop it."
For the first time in her life, Agnus Dei saw her father look sheepish. He let his growl die, and Agnus Dei laughed. Father, cowed into silence! Her laughter seized her and she rolled around on the cave floor, tail lashing in all directions, slamming into the walls and several times into the pup.
"Cut it out," Kyrie said, rubbing his side where her tail had struck. "The spikes on your tail are huge. Stars. Your parents warned me about you."
"Did they, pup?" she asked.
"Stop calling me that!" he demanded, smoke rising from his nostrils.
Agnus Dei laughed at the sight of him bristling; he reminded her of a baby porcupine. "Okay, pup. Pup pup puppy pup."
He objected some more, as did Mother, but Agnus Dei could not hear. She was laughing too hard. It felt good to laugh. For so long, she had hidden alone in this cave. She had not spoken to anyone in days. After a year upon the snowy mountains, she had fled to this place, this green land on the far side of the world, this land where few men and griffins ventured. This land near the fabled kingdom of the salvanae, the true dragons.
I fled here to escape Mother, but... I missed her, Agnus Dei thought. She hated to admit it, even to herself, and would never tell Mother. But Agnus Dei knew it was true. Though she clashed horns with Mother whenever they spoke, figuratively and sometimes literally, she did love her. She had missed her. She had missed Father. Her laughter died, and she regarded her parents in silence for a moment.
"You two always said it was dangerous being together," Agnus Dei finally said. "You said we must live separately; Father in the forest, Mother and I in the snowy mountains, that we could not risk the griffins killing us all together. So why are you here? Why are we together? Why did you bring the pup?"
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 12